


Skin & Heart

by Feyland



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Multi, Non-binary character, Oral Sex, Sort of? - Freeform, Threesome, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feyland/pseuds/Feyland
Summary: “Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, soft and dark as smoke. “Montparnasse, whatever it was you last did to Jehan - do it again.”





	Skin & Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags please!

Claquesous hummed as he sank back into the armchair, terribly pleased by what he had come home to. Finding Montparnasse dishevelled was always a treat - he allowed very few to see him that way. And Jehan - Jehan looked as though they were born to be dishevelled. Their hair was loose and wild, a deep flush painting them from their cheeks down to their bare chest. 

They were loud too. It was their uninhibited laughter cut off into a gasp that had laid the breadcrumb trail for Claquesous to follow when he got home.

They both had the nerve to look shocked when Claquesous opened the door. His was the only surprise that could be warranted. He had expected to follow the delighted squeaks and sighs to Montparnasse’s room. But the sounds had veered off the wrong way, and it was in Claquesous’s own bed that he found the two - surprised but not chagrined. 

He had not needed to say a word. Even his raised eyebrow had gone unseen beneath his mask. But he slowly closed the bedroom door behind him, leaned up against it, and crossed his arms, waiting. 

“I wasn’t sure when you would be home,” Montparnasse had said, not even bothering to move his hands away from Jehan’s fluttering stomach. “Didn’t want to miss you.”

“And your bed is bigger,” Jehan had supplied, their voice a touch too strained. “If you wanted to join us, that is.” 

Claquesous took a step forward, and felt an instant jolt of pleasure at the way both Montparnasse and Jehan reacted to the movement. He didn’t cross to the bed, though. Instead, he picked up the armchair that sat in the corner, and moved it close enough to the entangled pair that he could reach out and touch them if need be. He immensely enjoyed the way they watched him watching them, and he sat comfortably, letting the amusement pull at his mouth. 

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, soft and dark as smoke. “Montparnasse, whatever it was you last did to Jehan - do it again.”

Claquesous saw the flash of teeth as Montparnasse picked up on his game, and then watched as the mouth closed over Jehan’s nipple, dragging an immediate keen from them. 

Claquesous ran his eyes down both bodies. A few new marks had already been sucked onto Montparnasse’s torso, and Jehan’s offending lips looked raw and swollen as they threw their head back against the pillows, eyes closed, mouth open. Both were still half-dressed, something Claquesous mentally listed as something to remedy. 

Montparnasse moved his knee up between Jehan’s legs, and their breath stuttered. Montparnasse grinned, shooting a look towards Claquesous. Showing off, it seemed. 

“Montparnasse - what do you think of Jehan’s leggings?” Claquesous said, toying with the words. 

“Awful,” Montparnasse groaned, not even bothering to inspect the pastel monstrosities. Jehan’s giggle was like a peal of bells. 

“In that case,” Claquesous said, honey dripping from the words, “remove them.”

Jehan whined, immediately lifting their hips. Their eyes fell open again, finding Claquesous’s gaze. He was sure, then, to keep what was visible of his expression as neutral as possible to contrast the shuddering pleasure coming off of Jehan’s face. Montparnasse lay a series of kisses on their chest and stomach before tugging at the waistband of the leggings, and dragging them down along with Jehan’s underwear. As he tossed them aside, he moved to the fly of his own trousers.

“Stop.” Claquesous’s command wasn’t any louder than the rest of his words, but Montparnasse froze nonetheless. “A greedy boy,” Claquesous purred. “You have this creature naked in front of you, and all you can think of is your own pleasure? For shame, Montparnasse.”

Montparnasse made a noise of protest, but dropped his hands, waiting for the next direction he knew would be coming. 

“I think you need to make it up to them, don’t you?” Claquesous’s voice dropped lower, and Jehan twitched, like the words had sent an electric current through them. “Look at them. So patient.” Reaching out, Claquesous set a hand on Jehan’s head, stroking at their long hair. They trembled under the touch, and swallowed hard. Gently, he moved his hand to their temple, and trailed the softest caress down their cheek, to their chin, to their throat. He applied no pressure, but fanned his fingers out, enjoying the way Jehan seemed to barely keep themself from leaning into the touch. 

“So delicate,” he murmured. “I think I could nearly circle your neck with one hand.” He glanced back at Montparnasse, poised between Jehan’s knees. “Look how good they are,” Claquesous said. “They look about to fall apart.” He paused, as though deliberating. “Don’t leave them waiting like that, Montparnasse. Touch them.”

Montparnasse’s desperate hand fell between Jehan’s legs at the same time Claquesous’s closed around their throat. They bucked, hard, tensing under both. A cry that went unheard moved under Claquesous’s fingers, but he pushed it back down. Montparnasse had moved closer, pressing his free hand down on Jehan’s hipbone, holding down their trembling body as he wet his fingers, twisting inside of them. They jerked again when Montparnasse’s thumb brushed against the bundle of nerves, and Claquesous withdrew his hand, leaning back again to enjoy the way Jehan dragged in a breath just to release it quickly in a jagged moan. 

Montparnasse worked quickly, desperately, as though he feared Claquesous would revoke his command. His dexterous fingers, so skilled at taking what they could, made no exception with Jehan’s body, pulling a stream of keening cries from them as they strained against the pressure on their hip. Desperately, they reached down, grabbing at Montparnasse’s hair.

“Don’t touch him.” 

Immediately, Jehan drew their hands back, bringing them up to their head, caught. Their eyes were huge when they met Claquesous’s, the guilt of disobedience mixed in with a tinge of defiance. 

“He doesn’t get touched just yet,” Claquesous purred. “Not until he earns it. Do you think he’s earned it yet?”

Jehan opened their mouth. “I- ahh!” Claquesous looked down at Montparnasse, who smirked, his fingers dancing over Jehan, inside of Jehan. 

“I didn’t quite catch that, Jehan. Does Montparnasse deserve to be touched?”

“Please!” said Jehan hoarsely. “He- it feels so good but please-”

“ _But_ , they said.” Claquesous crooned. “I’m not sure _but_ is good enough.”

“They can’t even form sentences properly,” said Montparnasse, his cockiness crowing with every shudder and mewl he coaxed out of Jehan. “I think that’s the very best indicator of my skill.”

“ _I_ think,” Claquesous said, slowly, “that you talk too much. Put your mouth to better use.”

Montparnasse was quick to comply, grinning as he replaced his hand with his mouth. Jehan’s back arched, their wail silent as they squeezed their eyes shut, their hands clenching and unclenching uselessly. They managed to pull their legs up a bit, their thighs squeezing Montparnasse’s head tightly, rewarding each flick of his tongue with an increase in pressure. 

“That’s it,” murmured Claquesous, sliding a hand forward to take hold of one of Jehan’s, instantly becoming a lifeline for the creature too lost in the sea of ecstasy. “So good. Look what you’ve done to him. He’s never been this generous with anything in his life.”

Montparnasse punctuated the comment with increased vigour. Jehan’s breath had turned ragged, and tears were forming in their eyes. Claquesous could feel the mounting tension in their body as their grip grew tighter and tighter, threatening to take him with them. 

A final strangled cry ripped from their throat as their body jerked under Montparnasse’s mouth again and again. Claquesous held on to their hand, momentarily struck by the sublime.

So, so slowly, and far too fast, the rush passed, and Jehan seemed to return to themself. Between their legs, Montparnasse had not yet abandoned his task, lazily dragging his tongue over the trembling, sensitive nerves, milking every last broken sob he could. 

“Montparnasse,” Claquesous said, and couldn’t help but delight in the last hiccuped whine from Jehan as Montparnasse pressed kisses to their thighs and hip bones before drawing back. 

“Good enough use of my mouth?” he said, smugly, licking his puffy, pink lips. His eyes were narrowed, the lashes far too long for his own good. 

“We’ll see,” said Claquesous, giving Jehan’s hand a last squeeze before letting go and leaning back in his hair. “You’re not quite done.”

Montparnasse’s indignant huff did nothing to hide the pleased energy that spurred him off the bed and immediately onto his knees. Casually, Claquesous spread his legs wide and draped his arms over the back of the chair. His expression was blank, still half-hidden by the mask, as he looked down cooly. On the bed, Jehan had curled onto their side, hugging the pillow and smiling as they watched. 

Montparnasse took his time undoing Claquesous’s trousers, spending just as long looking up through those devilish lashes as he did on the task at hand. Claquesous didn’t hurry him, though, refusing to give in to the bait. Instead, he let the Montparnasse move painfully slowly before finally, finally drawing him out. 

Montparnasse’s smile was far too smug. “You can’t hide everything,” he noted at the obvious arousal, and before Claquesous could respond, Montparnasse swallowed him down. 

Claquesous couldn’t help but groan, letting out a huff of built up need, enjoying the responding hum from Montparnasse that vibrated around him. It took all of his effort to maintain the stoic facade, and still he could feel Montparnasse smiling at every shudder that passed through Claquesous’s body. 

 Montparnasse was all too good at what he did, the same wicked tongue that had brought Jehan to the edge of heaven and back working skillfully at Claquesous. Claquesous tried to breathe regularly, tried to slow the growing pounding of his heart that leapt in his chest at every velvet stroke of tongue, tried to hold back the inevitability of Montparnasse, who, even on his knees, had too much power.

It was impossible.

With some regret, Claquesous made himself grab a handful of hair and pull back. Those lips, those eyes - part of Claquesous wanted to rough up more than his hair. Another part, though, was losing his patience with the cocksure crooked smile on over-plump lips. 

He gestured to Montparnasse, not bothering to verbalize the invitation they both understood well. Montparnasse stood, stripping himself of his remaining clothing, and straddled Claquesous’s lap, his hand continuing to work between them. 

“Think you’ve earned it?” Claquesous murmured, his lungs lacking too much air. 

“Don’t care if I have,” Montparnasse replied, his looking challenging, but he nonetheless, he waited for permission. 

“Go on, then. Brat.”

It wasn’t graceful or even comfortable. Montparnasse sank down around him, already half-gone as Claquesous grabbed him by the hips, working in tandem to control the waves of motion between them. A laugh brought Claquesous’s attention to the bed, where Jehan still lay, watching with adoration. 

Montparnasse’s breath was hot in his ear, and he leaned harder on Claquesous as his pace began to stutter. 

“Not yet,” hissed Claquesous, and wrapped one arm around Montparnasse’s slight frame, dragging him closer, pushing harder, rolling his hips with every drop of compulsion he had swallowed down since he had stepped through the door. He dipped the other hand deep in between them and pressed hard.

The howl torn from Montparnasse’s throat broke as it surfaced, shattering with him into a million pieces as he doubled over, shaking apart in Claquesous’s lap. Claquesous held on, too, and did not stop until the world went white around him.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Azura and Freckle who are terrible enablers.


End file.
